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Dinetto looked at Kat and said, "I owe you one."

Lou Dinetto was ready to check out of the hospital. Kat went to his room to say goodbye. Rhino and the Shadow were there.

"I hear you."

Kat watched them leave the room.

"Is that what you think my life is worth? I hear you're getting married."

As Kat walked in, Dinetto turned to them and said, "Get lost."

Kat shook her head. "No. Thank you."

"That's right."

"Yes."

She knew that he meant it. And she knew that she would never go to him.

"Well, tell him to take good care of you, or he'll have to answer to me."

There was a small pause. "I'm sorry about Mike."

"To a doctor."

"Good." Dinetto held out a bulky manila envelope. "A little wedding present for you."

"You don't owe me anything."

"But…"

"You, too. You know something? You're a real standup broad. I'm going to tell you something I want you to remember. If you ever need a favor -- anything -- you come to me. You hear me?"

"Take care of yourself."

"He'll be all right," Kat said. "I had a long talk with him. He'll be fine."

"I'll tell him."

The hospital was busier than ever. Paige had been on a thirty-six-hour shift that had been filled with emergencies. She had just gone to sleep in the on-call room when she was awakened by the urgent shrill of the telephone.

During the weeks that followed, Paige and Jason spoke on the phone three and four times a day, and were together every time Paige was not on night call.

She fumbled the phone to her ear. "H'lo?"

Paige tried to clear her mind. Room 422. One of Dr. Barker's patients. Lance Kelly. He had just had a mitral valve replaced. Something must have gone wrong. Paige stumbled off the cot and walked out into the deserted corridor. She decided not to wait for the elevator. She ran up the stairs. Maybe it's just a nervous nurse. If it's serious, I'll call Dr. Barker, she thought.

"Dr. Taylor, will you come to Room 422, stat?"

She walked into Room 422 and stood in the doorway, staring. The patient was fighting for breath and moaning. The nurse turned to Paige in obvious relief. "I didn't know what to do, doctor. I…"

"Let's sedate him," Paige ordered.

Paige hurried to the bedside. "You're going to be fine," she said reassuringly. She took his wrist between two fingers. His pulse was jumping wildly. The mitral valve was malfunctioning.

Fifteen minutes later, Kelly was on the operating table. The team consisted of two scrub nurses, a circulating nurse, and two residents. A television monitor was perched high in a corner of the room to display the heart rate, EKG, and blood pressure.

The nurse handed Paige a syringe, and Paige injected it into a vein. Paige turned to the nurse. "Tell the head nurse to get an operating team together, stat. And send for Dr. Barker!"

The anesthesiologist walked in, and Paige felt like cursing. Most of the anesthesiologists at the hospital were skilled doctors, but Herman Koch was an exception. Paige had worked with him before and tried to avoid him as much as possible. She did not trust him. Now she had no choice.

Paige watched him secure a tube to the patient's throat, while she unfolded a paper drape with a clear window and placed it over the patient's chest.

One of the residents asked, "What's the problem here?"

"Propofol."

"Dr. Barker replaced the mitral valve yesterday. I think it's ruptured." Paige looked over at Dr. Koch. "Is he out?"

The operation began.

"Put a line into the jugular vein," Paige said.

I wish you were, Paige thought. "What are you using?"

Koch nodded. "Right."

She nodded. "All right."

She watched Kelly being connected to the heart-lung machine so she could perform a cardiopulmonary bypass. Paige studied the monitors on the wall. Pulse 140… blood oxygen saturation 92 percent… blood pressure 80 over 60. "Let's go," Paige said.

Paige stepped up to the operating table under eleven hundred watts of hot white light and turned to the scrub nurse. "Scalpel, please…"

Paige removed all the sternal wires from the operation the day before. She then cut from the base of the neck to the lower end of the sternum, while one of the residents blotted away the blood with gauze pads.

One of the residents put on music.

Koch nodded. "Sleeping like he's in bed at home."

Paige said, "Dr. Barker. Do you want to…?"

"But I…"

He should know, Paige thought angrily. "Give him lidocaine and epinephrine! Now!" She was yelling.

The door to the operating room opened and Lawrence Barker stepped in. He stood to one side, watching what was happening.

"What do you want me to do?" Koch asked helplessly.

"It's your operation."

She carefully went through the layers of fat and muscle, and in front of her was the erratically beating heart. "There's the problem," Paige said. "The atrium is perforated. Blood is collecting around the heart and compressing it." Paige was looking at the monitor on the wall. The pump pressure had dropped dangerously.

"He's in V-tach! His pressure is dropping!"

"Increase the flow," Paige ordered.

Paige took a quick look at what Koch was doing. "Be careful. You'll overanesthetize him, dammit! Slow it down!"

Paige watched as Koch picked up a syringe and injected it into the patient's IV.

A resident looked at the monitor and called out, "Blood pressure is falling."

"Right."

As Paige was applying the defibrillator to Lance Kelly's body for the third futile time, Dr. Barker stepped up to the operating table and turned to Paige. "You killed him."

Paige was working frantically to stop the flow of blood. She looked up at Koch. "Too much flow! I told you to…"

"Give me the defibrillator!" Paige yelled.

The noise of the heartbeat on the monitor suddenly became chaotic.

She took the paddles and positioned them directly over Kelly's heart. Kelly's body jumped, then fell back.

"My God! Something's gone wrong!"

The circulating nurse reached for the defibrillator on the crash cart, opened two sterile paddles, and plugged them in. She turned the buttons up to charge them and ten seconds later handed them to Paige.

Paige tried again, willing him to come back to life, willing him to breathe again. Nothing. The heart lay still, a dead, useless organ.

Paige was in a fury. Her part of the operation had been successful. Koch had overanesthetized the patient.